


Aftercare for a rally gone wrong

by transnymphtaire



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:35:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3437132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transnymphtaire/pseuds/transnymphtaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gift to rishellaqueer.tumblr.com</p>
<p>Enjolras is in a bad mood after a rally went violent, and Grantaire's apartment is the closest. Also, he got punched and need someone to take care of him. That includes a ridiculous band-aid and soup.</p>
<p>(Grantaire's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftercare for a rally gone wrong

The clock on the wall was getting closer and closer to 5pm. Grantaire looked anxiously at his phone as the sound of seconds passing echoed in the room. He knew that there had been an rally today, and he had wanted to come, but his job had basically demanded that he took over a shift for someone. Not wanting to risk getting fired, he had had no other choice, and was therefore now waiting for news from someone that had attended the rally. Were everyone safe? Had it gone well? Why hadn't anyone called him? Where they in jail? Did they need bail? He grew more anxious as his phone continued to be silent, and cursed himself for not managing to remember where the rally had taken place. If he did, he would have left his apartment right now to go see if anyone was still there.

As he started to seriously consider searching all over Paris, because his phone was still quiet and it was ten minutes over 5 now, a series of knocks startled him. He glanced around, first thinking he had imagined it, when he heard more knocks. Realizing it was from his own door, he got up from the sofa to answer. When he opened the door and looked straight at Enjolras, he froze in place at first. Then relief washed over him, because it meant that at least one person had gotten from the rally safely. Well, almost. After a second look, he noticed the blood trailing down Enjolras' left cheek and the extremely unhappy grimace the blond wore. Grantaire silently moved to the side to let him in, and closed the door afterward.

When he turned around, Enjolras was sitting on his sofa, arms crossed over his chest and looking very much like a child that had just got told that Christmas was canceled.  
“Did it go bad?” he asked, when the silence started feeling uncomfortable. The only response he got was a noncommittal grunt. Okay... should he call Combeferre? Combeferre would better know how to care for the situation. Including the blood. He could also call Joly, but Combeferre was a safer bet.  
“Don't answer me then. I'll call Ferre in case they're worried about you.” Grantaire sighed, and reached for his phone. A hand on his wrist stopped him, and he looked up at Enjolras questioningly.  
“Don't.” was the only answer he got. Grantaire shrugged.  
“Okay, suit yourself. I'll take no responsibility when they wonder where the fuck you went.”  
“Your apartment was the closest, they can probably guess.” Enjolras answered, leaning back against the sofa. Grantaire blinked, surprised both that the blond had managed a whole sentence, and that he had been so close to the rally the whole time.  
“I'll... I'll go get something to wash the blood off with...” he mumbled, and fled from his own living room before his mind started over-analyzing what Enjolras had said.

Grantaire closed the door to the bathroom behind him and started rummaging through the cabinets in search for the first-aid kit. He tried to not feel flattered that Enjolras had come to his apartment, because it was only because his was the closest. Had the rally been closer to someone else, Enjolras wouldn't have come. Except... Bahorel lived close by. Enjolras could have gone there instead. Though Bahorel was most likely in jail, since he knew the other had gone to the rally, and 9 out of 10 times, did end up in jail when a rally turned bad. There really were no reason to feel flattered. Enjolras had probably guessed that he would be home since he hadn't shown up, and his apartment was the most convenient. Working himself up like this would help nothing.

A small triumphant noise escaped him when he finally found the first-aid kit, and he prayed to whichever deity that would listen that the sound hadn't been loud enough for Enjolras to hear. Not having any reason to continue hiding in the bathroom, and worried about the blood he had seen, Grantaire slowly got back to the living room. Enjolras was sitting exactly as he had left him.  
“Are you sure I shouldn't call Combeferre? Or Joly? They would do a better job than me...” he said, as he sat down on the coffee-table. Grantaire opened the first-aid kit and searched around a little until he found a package of antiseptic wipes. Even if he had said that, he had quite some experience from patching himself up after fights, but since this was Enjolras he felt less sure in his ability.  
“Shut up, it's nothing serious. Just clean it up already.” Enjolras muttered. Someone was really childish today apparently.  
“What happened anyway?” he asked, as he started wiping away the thankfully dried blood.  
“Someone started a fight.” the blond answered, as if it weren't obvious.  
“With you.” Grantaire clarified with a sigh. He would have to move Enjolras' hair if he wanted to see the injury. He bit his lip in concentration as he did it.  
“...I got punched.” Enjolras admitted, after being strangely quiet while Grantaire moved his hair.  
“Holy shit, you're bleeding because of a punch?!” Grantaire raised his voice in surprise. Now that most of the blood were gone, he could definitely see a bruise start forming. “Did they wear rings?”  
“I don't know?” Enjolras answered, sounding somewhat unsure. “Does it make a difference?”

Grantaire chose to not answer, instead tilting Enjolras' head to the side so that he could get a better look at the cut. It was quite small, thankfully. Hadn't Combeferre once said something about face injuries bleeding a lot? Biting his lip in concentration, he carefully cleaned the cut with a new antiseptic wipe. Enjolras gave out a small whine.  
“Sorry.” he mumbled, putting down the wipe beside him when he was done. He started looking through the first-aid kit again. He found some antibiotic ointment that he carefully smeared over the cut, before putting a band-aid over it with a triumphant smile.  
“All patched up! ...also your band-aid is pink with a doodle of a unicorn and says 'poked by a unicorn' and I just realized it, sorry. It makes for a cool story though. Better than getting punched at a rally. Also more realistic, I mean, you totally look like someone unicorns would want to get close to, not like someone that would- okay I'm shutting up now.” Grantaire finished with a nervous laugh. Enjolras' lips turned slightly upwards in the corner, hinting at a smile, before the blond opened his mouth. Whatever he was going to say got interrupted by a loud rumble. Enjolras looked down at his stomach, frowning. God, the guy was fucking adorable sometimes.  
“I guess I'll make you something to eat.” Grantaire said, and walked into the kitchen before Enjolras could voice any protests.

Since there wasn't very much to eat in his kitchen, he quickly decided to heat up some soup. It was just his luck that he barely had food when he actually got an opportunity to cook for Enjolras. He would have to make this soup the best fucking soup ever – even if it was a can of tomato soup that he had found forgotten in a cabinet. Focusing on his cooking, he never noticed when Enjolras entered the kitchen. Therefore he felt like he would get a heart attack when he turned around and saw the taller man looking at him.  
“The soup is ready.” Grantaire managed to squeak, before busying himself with pouring said soup into a bowl.  
“You didn't have to cook me anything.” Enjolras said – Grantaire could almost hear the frown – but sat down at the kitchen table.  
“What kind of host would I be if I didn't?” Grantaire said with a shrug, and placed the bowl in front of Enjolras, spoon already in it. “Want anything to drink?” he added. When Enjolras shook his head, Grantaire sat down on the chair next to him.  
“I'll eat something later.” he said when he saw Enjolras' questioning look.  
“I didn't- okay.” Enjolras mumbled, before starting to eat.

Just sitting there in silence, trying to – and miserably failing – not stare at Enjolras, quickly got awkward.  
“You look just like Apollo, did you know that? Wait, you probably do, I tell you so all the time. It's not only that you look like him though, it's the whole knowledge and manly beauty and sun god thing as well. Did you know that Apollo was the god of music, song, poetry and shit? That's not really you, I mean, you know shit about poetry. You may look like Apollo, but I think you might be more like Ares, god of war, battle lust, civil order and manly courage. You did just get back from a violent rally while fucking bleeding so don't even think about protesting. If it only was the sun thing I could just as well liken you to Hyperion, you know. Titan god of light. Or his son, Helios, who is actually the titan god of the sun. Except when it comes to titans, Menoetius is more fitting. Violent anger, rash action, and human mortality. Also, he got killed by Zeus, and I always tell you that you'll end up killed. Turn into a ghost, maybe. Spirit of justice and righteousness. That's Dikaiosyne by the way. Koalemos is the spirit of stupidity and foolishness, which yeah, you. You didn't ask, but I would be Dionysus and Momus. Momus is the spirit of mockery, blame, ridicule, scorn, complaint and stinging criticism. He was kinda thrown out for ridiculing the gods. Not kinda, he was thrown out. Why did I say that? Why am I still talking? Why didn't you stop me?” Grantaire looked accusingly at the quiet blond. He had just started rambling about greek mythology out of nowhere, and if that wasn't bad enough, he had compared Enjolras to tons of things, not all flattering. To his surprise, Enjolras was smiling at him.

“You're not as bad as Momus.” he said, his tone almost sounding fond. Which was ridiculous, why would Enjolras of all people think fondly of him- His train of thought stopped because Enjolras lips were against his cheek. Enjolras just kissed his cheek.  
“What.” Grantaire squeaked. Enjolras looked at him for a moment, seemingly considering something.  
“You just got poked by a unicorn.” he finally said, perfectly deadpan.


End file.
